on the sidewalk

outside the window

I see the empty sidewalk

and feel how it multiplies

this Sunday solitude

but then

a squirrel darts across

and another one gives chase

an anole grabs a black ant

a white ibis grabs the anole

there’s a weed from the crack

and a flower from the weed

and leaves from the trees above

have fallen crisp to the surface

and things are living

and things are dying

and I am just a witness

somehow doing neither

while outside the window

I see the busy sidewalk

with so much room left for

so much more to happen

(My photo)

two fingers

gliding across her skin

  underneath

her heartbeat

and everything else

I’m unable to touch

  follows

(Image from deepundergroundpoetry.com)

as subtle as the night

as subtle as

the night, in

continuous flow

when in these

waiting moments

without you

  I rise, but fall

subjected to the

absence, the

empty hands

that long to hold

until genesis arrives

in an atmosphere

of thought

bold enough at

my side, this

settled hush

her body, the

comfort of your

easy love

(“Blue Lovers” by Marc Chagall from wikiart.org)

spasm

contraction

in fits

an hour or so

before sunrise

toxicity coming

in lethal doses

I already hear the

voices, the voices

echo

there’s a little darkness

left in me this hour

I must savor it

before morning’s entrance

creates a death I am

unable

to escape

whispering

    step forward

(Image by David Hockney on sophi-aubrey.tumblr.com)

k. s.

lifeless as sunrise,

just a beautiful glowing

remembered daily

(Image from @ Jen Regnart on fravery.tumblr.com)

inure

the quest for chaos,

immediate satisfaction

she smiles

holding both hands out

  grasping at forbidden fruits

  the outcome, the thrill

  inured to the guilts of sin

  lust - a cloaked flame

  love - a glass prism

I kiss her at the waist

her mouth

opens wide

(image by Anatolii Tarnavskyi on artmajeur.com)

into the vibrant

abysmal

and opaque

maneuvering from

the lost vantablack

the first photon ride

bursting outward

into the vibrant

as bliss, expansion

the ether of creation,

of gods before us

before we ever held

belief as tangible

no fate imagined an

outcome such as this

two in tandem, hearts

turned everlasting diamond

(Altered image from seekpng.com)

from behind and through

we’re watching the sky

from the bedroom window

a purple-black starlit night

with just a few thin clouds

drifting across the moon

when from behind and through

a shooting star 

appears to break the

sky in half

with a line of light

that makes us gasp

naked bodies in

a naked grasp

  she’s pressed against me

  and I’m pressing back

from behind and through

I place myself on the outside

of her wet entrance

already hard

but playfully spiteful

I hold it there in hand

in its turgid force

lips upon shaft

head atop clit

unmoving     but pulsating

enough to drive her crazy

enough to make her wetness flood

the honey flows all over me

rivulets from apex to base

a terrible torture for two

but the thrill is mounting

and the pleasure is exploding

in second-to-second waves

and minute-to-minute crashes

until she finally screams

  Goddammit I want you in me!

from behind and through

engorged head to engorged lips

gliding into her warm acceptance

I become all body, all will

She becomes all body, all will

and our rhythm steadies

and our bodies collide

and pull back

and collide

and pull back

and collide

we see the moon

we see nothing

we hear heartbeats

we hear ourselves

and at her height

I am already waiting

we come together    fierce

as the white light blindness

of climax

completely overtakes us

(My altered photo image)

under the happy swimming surface

underneath the

setting sun and this

happy swimming surface

lies the darkest deeps,

the hidden complications

yet to be revealed

 - persona non grata

can you love me at my worst,

the swollen morning ugliness

that arises next to you

with tangled hair

and revolting breath

the mirror-punching nights

when ugliness mocks me

one reflection at a time,

my own nails ripping and

clawing at my face

and ugly even now

trying so hard to seem

semi-beautiful

but my setting sun

enflames the ocean

a self-consuming conflagration

and suddenly

this happy swimming surface

produces a monster from

the deep

(Fire On The Ocean by George Hunter on saatchiart.com)

foam

I am soft today, translucent

one of a million bubbles in foam

escaping the surface

uninterested in anything solid

closer to a night sky than a

morning earth

a rising sun from somewhere else

beckons me to speak

but the moon and I are closer now

as reticent as imaginary friends

to the rest of the world

unable to be gathered

(My altered image)

at the door

maybe i’ll hear you

maybe        i won’t

maybe i’ll open the door

maybe i’ll hold it shut

maybe i’ll just

peek through the

peephole,

maybe i’ll slip

a whisper underneath

maybe,

if you’re there

long enough

and i come to

my senses,

i will let you in

and i’ll pull you close

clutching by the waist,

crashing breast to breast

and i will beg you

for forgiveness

and i will confess to you

that

i just didn’t know

siren

flowers by any name

and petals of such

  float over her

thousands of miles away

I am drawn to join her

  calm of tide pool

stir the seas before me

enrage the skies above

  obstacles be damned

I follow the sweetest song

and tempt the Fates

  love-impaled as I am

(Image from mirrorsinner.tumblr.com)

dismal

Death is moping in eerie silence

sulking in an unusual way

  failing to capture

  a soul today

Death has not one hand to hold

nor one to drag away from life

  as boundless Joy

  outwits its might

Death decrepit, sallow and forlorn

as trivial as a droplet in drifting haze

  for even Death

  has dismal days

(Image from pinterest)

covered in eyes

all over my body

I am covered in eyes

that search for you

tirelessly

from every angle

there is no approach

toward me that will

come unnoticed

even the earth

  spinning through its

  days and nights

cannot fool this

elevated vision

each iris adjusting the

anxious pupil

no matter the lack or

abundance of light

I am waiting

eagerly

for warmth under your

sudden sun,

for soothing below your

mellow moon

and to finally rest

these open eyes

one by one

closing comfortably

in your embrace

  my body

(Image “Multiple eyes” by Laura O on saatchiart.com)

an unsent valentine

text me

printed on a

pink candy heart

and the nervous touch

of a hand on a hand

... every drive home

was agony without you

... kinship with the moon

forever halved in darkness

where my love for you

remains

unblemished

and untold

(Image from wallpaperflare.com)

in the hole

her eyes said - I’m empty

  and then

simply looked away

I had a heart full of

  yes poems

if she just would’ve listened

I curse myself up mountains

  stand at the summit

  and usually jump

but this time I stayed grounded

  dug a deep hole

  and buried our bond

(Altered image from funjoelsisrael.com)

chemical heart

and there it is

where it always is

as it always was

  caged, robotic, unthinking

an assumed laborer

chugging away as

undisrupted ambition flows

through the sodium channels

unglue the ephapse

and the rhythms collapse

or worse, inject emotions

and witness the ensuing chaos

and there it is

as metaphor in your hand

dispersed as an agent

of love, hate or change

(Image from fineartamerica.com)

hard

energized by you,

pulsating for you

i close my eyes

and dream of you

reaching...

... first the left hand

with gripping warmth

next, the right hand

below, at the base

sometimes the sharp

edges of fingernails

gliding on the shaft

and pinching the head

the tip gets wet,

a bulb of precum

dripping from the top

streams to your fingers

those pretty fingers,

those beautiful fingers

each the shape

of a separate woman

i love each one of them

as they work together

squeezing ~

pulling ~

rhythmically tugging me ~

i can’t remember

the last breath i took

each one - so deep

each one - so lost

the blood-rush

maximizing length

and girth

your grip tightening,

your stroke speeding up

i have never been harder,

i have never been harder

than this,

than this

right now as you’re making me

so fucking hard,

i’m so fucking hard for you

i can barely hang on,

i can barely... breathe...

i look at you

and you open your

mouth

leaning forward

and the first wave of

breath

and the first lick of

tongue

and the first clutch of

lips

that all fall upon me

brings me to the finish

as i continue to release

you continue to caress,

you continue with kisses

softer

and sweeter

than when this began

my cock adores you,

my cock is strengthened

each time i think of you

wanton woman,

lust-full woman

none of this is possible

without you,

none of it

physically i am spent

but this weakness

is recovery

for the next time we meet,

the next time this ocean

swells within me

it won’t be

a dream

at puddles

look look look at all the

birds pecking at puddles

what little water there is

collected in swales

collected in potholes

and the birds

how they share

what little water is there

just peck pecking away

under sun’s relentless rays

until now, in unison

they up and fly away

a flock of bellies full like

filled balloons into the air

(Image “Spring Thaw - Birds by a Puddle” by garytuckerartist.com)

a lovely pink

monotone belligerence

juxtaposed with the

Autumn evening shade

of pleasance

they don’t make masks

like these in heaven

no, these are forged in

the fires far below

war of one versus one

consuming the liquor of

this frontline frenzy

- adrenaline

stomping through the roses

seeing one among the many

more a lovely pink than red

  perhaps, the one

(Image: pink rose bokeh by Sophie-Y on deviantart.com)

balloons

exhaustion exhaled

into a balloon

that floats away

with all the others

filling the sky

lumpy and elastic

with the world’s

insufferable frustrations

yours and mine

hers and his

theirs and ours

- overhead, swelling

the hawk now hunts

a little closer to the rabbit

the missile recalculates

its arc towards destruction

  the tension is mounting

  for another big bang

  this time

  we all get to see it

and she’s singing

there’s a

slow steam curling up

from the

open bathroom door

to the ceiling

I came home a little early

to surprise her

she’s a nude abstraction

in the fogged mirror

beads of water

heavy with her

drip down the surface

slightly clarifying

- some skin, some hair

and she’s singing

and of all the songs to sing

its Yellow Submarine

 “As we live a life of ease

  Everyone of us has all we need

  Sky of blue and sea of green

  In our yellow submarine”

our lives are not easy

there’s a struggle every day

... we both know it

but she’s having a moment

and she’s totally into it

it stops me

its the cutest fucking thing

she’s so damn sexy

and maybe...    hold on...

I just need a minute

to take this in